Open Heart (7 page)

Chapter Eight

“Hey, Eric. When are you coming home?”

Eric sighed. He’d been dreading talking to Ian and had avoided his calls for the whole day since he'd left Annabeth's place. After his amazing and passionate night with her, he hadn’t wanted anyone to burst the bubble. But he had to talk to Ian at some point, he knew.

“The day after tomorrow, Ian.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah. Totally. Annabeth is leaving tomorrow morning, so I’ll have no reason to stick around. I’ll take an extra day to get myself together and then I’ll fly home.”

“Why?”

“Why will I fly home?”

“No. Why will you take an extra day to get yourself together?”

Shit. I really need to remember to watch my words around my brother the cop.

“No reason,” Eric said. “Just a slip of the tongue.”

“Was that the only slip you made out there, little bro? Or did your tongue slip somewhere else too?”

Eric flashed back to being buried between Annabeth’s legs, his tongue deep in her hot centre, her hands gripping the sheets as she writhed and moaned. He wanted to be back there right now, holding her body down as she came hard enough to almost fly off the bed.

“What the hell, Ian?”

“No. No
way
you turn this back on me, man. Did something happen between the two of you when you went over for dinner last night?”

Eric was silent.

“Oh, fuck.” Ian sat down. “Fuck, man. Really?”

“I – I didn’t plan it. I just – she was crying and she needed me to stay. It just happened.”

“If she was upset, you call a friend of hers to talk her down. You don’t have sex with her.”

“It was just one night.”

“For Christ’s sake, Eric. You don’t
do
one-night-stands. You never have. And now you honestly expect me to believe that you can casually fuck that woman –
that
woman, of all women – and just be able to walk away like nothing happened?”

“No. Of course not. But I have to let her go, right?”

“Yes.”

“I have no choice here. I know that.”

“No.”

“So. I’ll let her go.”

Ian heard the pain in his brother’s voice. “I’m sorry, Eric.”

“It’ll be OK.” Eric tried to sound confident. “It was just a fling.”

“Eric,” Ian said. “There is not one single fucking thing ‘just’ about any of this. You get your ass home as soon as you can.”

“I will.” Eric sighed. “I will.”

**

The next evening, Annabeth was looking out her window, thinking about her talk with Francine.

Annabeth had had more than one experience with therapists over the previous ten years. Her mother had insisted that she go and see one when she was first diagnosed with cancer, but it had just seemed so self-indulgent. After all, she was fighting, wasn’t she? Her treatment was going well, the disease was backing off. So, if she was generally doing well – no matter how hard it was to keep positive – why sit around and whine?

She had been to about a dozen visits and then she stopped. Cam was in her life by then and he was all the support she needed. His love and belief was more healing than sitting in a room and blathering to a man who charged two hundred dollars an hour.

After Cam died, she had taken the initiative and gone to a therapist herself. Maybe it even helped, for a while. But after a year or so, Annabeth started to feel like it was ‘time’ to get on with things. At the time, it looked like progress, like coping and healing and moving on. Now, she wasn’t so sure that’s what it was at all. Now, she thought it was avoidance. Denial.

Francine was smart, Annabeth knew, and she was compassionate. She had sat quietly on the sofa and just listened while Annabeth told her everything. It had been like setting down a heavy burden… she felt airy and positive. She and Francine agreed to meet every day for the next five days, and Francine was going to help her find a therapist in Denver. For the first time in years, she felt hopeful.

Just then, Annabeth spotted Eric emerge from his cabin.

She looked at him, taking in his face and body, the way he moved. She remembered how it had felt to be close to him, for him to be inside her.

Maybe I can do this again. Maybe I don’t have to die alone, pining away forever for Cam. Maybe… maybe it’s really OK to care about someone else.

Eric looked up and saw her. He smiled and waved at her. She opened the front door and he walked over.

“Well, hey, gorgeous,” he said. “I thought you were leaving first thing this morning. You leaving now instead?”

“Oh. Ummm. No, actually, there’s been a change of plan.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I’ll be staying now, for another five days.”

Eric stared down at her. An odd combination of elation and panic moved through him. “Really?”

“Yes. And – I was wondering if we could talk?”

“Sure.”

“Maybe you can come over for a drink in an hour?”

“I’d love that.”

“Yeah. Me too.”

**

Annabeth’s heart was pounding so loud, she was sure he could hear it.

How do I explain this? God, I barely know the guy… maybe I shouldn’t say anything to him at all? Just leave it?

Eric looked at her sitting bolt upright on the sofa. She looked nervous and scared.

“What’s going on, sweetheart? Are you OK?”

She set her cup of tea on the table. “No. No, I’m not.”

“OK. What can I do?”

Annabeth took a deep breath and dove in.

“I was going to kill myself last night.”

Eric went very still, his beer pausing halfway to his lips. He felt like someone had just punched him in the head. Everything was spinning.

“I had everything ready, you know,” she said. “I sent my final revisions to my agent, I had the pills, I had the wine. I dropped a note in Phil’s and Jake’s boxes, to make sure that they found me, not Julie or the cleaning lady. I gave away some presents to people I care about. Everything was… perfect.” She swallowed. “And then I just couldn’t go through with it.”

“What stopped you?”

“Julie and Jake’s wedding. Wanting to go to Vicky and Phil’s housewarming party.” She met his eyes. “Wanting to feel a man’s arms around me just once more… to make love one more time.”

Eric was silent.

“Vicky figured it out and she came dashing over here to stop me. But I’d already made up my mind to – to live.”

“How did she know?”

“She knows about wanting to just give up… about wanting things to end.”

“I think lots of people do, Annabeth.”

“You’re right. But when you’re
in
it, when you’re
in
the pain… you forget that. You just feel so… alone.”

“But you’re not alone. You have people who care about you, who’d help if you just asked.”

“I know.”

His dark eyes held hers. “Including me.”

She held her breath as he walked over to her, sat on the sofa. He reached for her and she moved in to his arms, almost collapsed in to them, desperate to feel him against her.

Annabeth held his upper arms and laid her head on his chest. It all felt wrong, somehow. He was tense and holding himself away from her. His words and hands were comforting and gentle; his body was stiff and straight.

“Eric?”

“Yeah?”

“Are you angry at me?” she said.

He stroked her hair slowly and thought about lying to her. He decided to tell the truth. “Yeah. I think I am.”

It was like a kick to her stomach. “I’m sorry.”

He pulled back and looked at her face. He wiped her tears away with his thumb. “No. No apologies, OK?”

“I was selfish and stupid… I just – I thought about me.”

“Shhh. Don’t talk like that.” He spoke automatically.

She looked uncertainly in to his dark eyes. They were hard and flat. “What are you thinking right now?”

“I don’t think now’s the time, Annabeth.”

“Please?”

He sighed. “OK. If you’re sure.”

I’m not
. “I am.”

OK, Neilson. Take it easy, now.

“OK. Here’s what I really don’t understand, Annabeth: you beat cancer. You lived through that hell and you were given a second chance that lots of people don’t get. Why would you squander it?”

She blinked, astonished.

To his complete surprise and despite his desire to be gentle, rage was slowly building up in his chest, at her and at himself and he couldn’t seem to control his words.
Jesus Christ, I was with her the night before she planned to kill herself, and I had no fucking clue! How did I miss all the signs? How much of this could I have seen and stopped?
His fear at what almost happened made him cruel.

“You didn’t think about that, huh?” he said. “It never occurred to you that the world is full of people in hospitals, praying and begging and holding on for a few more days of life, and you were just spitting in all their faces?”

“Eric…”

“I lay in a bed for six weeks, Annabeth, thinking I was going to die. I’d never –
never
– treat my second chance so cheap. I can’t believe you did that.”

“I didn’t – I couldn’t…”

“You never
got
it, did you?” Eric said. “That your life was already a gift? That you helped people with your words about your own grief? Did you write all that stuff
knowing
it was lies? Did you get your book deals and just crank out shit that sold? Just spouted platitudes and fiction, all for a few bucks?”

She jerked away from him and stood up, angry.

“Screw you, Eric.”

He stood up too.

“Oh, that’s your response, is it? How about you answer the question instead? All that stuff you wrote – the blog, the books – was it all bullshit?”

“No. Yes. I – I don’t know.”

“It was or it wasn’t, Annabeth. Which was it?”

She stared up at him, unable to believe that he was attacking her right after she had confided in him, trusted him. This was not the response she’d expected from the man who had kissed her and stroked her, who had plunged inside of her until she came. She opened her mouth to shout at him but a sob came out instead. Then another.

Immediately, Eric felt guilty and contrite. He reached for her. “Annabeth…”

She turned from him. “Don’t. Just get out.”

“No, not yet, OK? I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that…”

She felt his hands on her shoulders, turning her to face him again. She resisted, but her strength was nothing compared to his.

“Baby, I’m sorry. I – I’m more angry at myself than at you, and it came out all wrong. Are you OK?”

She shook her head.

“Let’s sit down again. Alright? We’ll talk.”

He wasn’t at all surprised when she started to cry, in earnest this time. He closed his eyes and cursed his fucking big mouth.

“Come here, angel. Come on, now. I’ve got you.”

His arms around her were strong and safe and exactly what she needed at that moment. She gave up trying to get away and pressed her face in to his chest, her tears soaking the front of his t-shirt. His hands in her hair were gentle and soothing, he whispered that she was OK now, that he wasn’t going to let her go.

She stayed there until she could feel her chest open up again and her breath came out more easily. She moved away and saw the tormented look on his face.

“Eric, don’t look like that.”

“I’m sorry. What I said was…”

“Right. You were right.”

“No. I mean, yes, I probably was, but I could have been more sensitive. What I said was all about me, and my own near-death. I made it personal and I shouldn’t have done that. You trusted me and I punished you for that.” He touched her cheek. “Also, if I’m being totally honest, I’m furious at myself. I was here with you – I made love to you for hours, for Christ’s sake – and I had
no
idea. I feel like… I should have known something. I should have asked more questions, stopped you from getting that far.”

“No. It’s not your fault.”

“OK, maybe not. But I have no right to be angry at you for keeping something so big from me. I mean, we've only known each other a few days, and it was all meant to be casual and for just one night, anyway.”

Besides, look at what you're keeping from her. People in glass houses, man.

She looked up at him. “Will you stay with me tonight?”

He was startled. “Oh, Annabeth… I don’t know. I mean…”

“I don’t mean that we’ll have sex. I – I can’t deal with that right now. But can you – just hold me?”

I can’t. I can’t do this. Not with what I’m not telling her.

“If you don’t want to be alone, don’t you think you should ask Vicky to stay over again?”

“She’d stay if I asked. She already said so. But I need someone in my bed, holding me. I need… I need you next to me. Please, Eric.”

His thoughts and emotions were like a wild storm inside of him: swirling and confused and so fucking messy. He couldn’t do this; he couldn’t
not
do this.

So he agreed. He took her hand and led her to her bedroom.

“Get undressed and get in to bed, baby. I’ll go get some night things from my place, OK?”

“You’ll come back?”

“I’ll come back.”

In his cabin, he grabbed a change of clothes and a few toiletries. Finally, after he had nothing else to do or distract him, he met his own eyes in the mirror.

Goddammit. She was in hell. So much pain and so alone. And you spent the night with her, after she begged you not to leave her alone, and you were so busy getting off that you barely noticed a fucking thing even after she trashed her kitchen right in front of you. If she had gone ahead with it? It’d be your fault, asshole. You have no excuses here.

“Do it right this time.” He said it aloud and he jumped a bit as his voice echoed around the bathroom. “Listen to her tonight. Just listen. And tomorrow – you leave. Enough is enough.”

One last night, then.

What’s one night?

Everything. When it’s all you’ve got left, it’s everything.

Chapter Nine

Annabeth and Eric were lying in her bed, just holding each other and not talking. Not yet.

He stroked her hair and she looked up at him.

“You feel like talking, angel?”

“Yes and no.”

“More yes or more no?”

She laughed. She couldn’t believe it, but she did.

“More yes, I think,” she said.

“OK.”

“I’m just lying here, trying to remember why the hell I thought ending it all was the best answer. Why I saw it as the
only
answer.” She was quiet for a few seconds. “I honestly don’t know how I got there, Eric. How things got that bad.”

“Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“Well, what I said earlier, about your writing.” He flushed as he remembered the venom in his words. “The way I asked was horrible, but I still want to know. Did you – did you mean what you wrote? Or was it all… I don’t know. A job? A book advance?”

She looked at her fingers tracing the curve of muscle on his chest, over and over.

“Annabeth? I’m sorry. You don’t have to answer.”

“But I do. I even want to.”

“OK.”

“The truth is, I don’t know. I really don’t. I know that I
wanted
to mean it. I wanted to be doing better and getting stronger and moving on. I know that I wanted to comfort others, help them if I could.”

“Were you ever really OK? Healing?”

“Yes. For sure, yes. For a while there, I was doing well. Great, even. Then – I don’t know. I suddenly got tired of it all. Grief is exhausting, and the energy that it takes to get through the day is astonishing. And I had the energy for a while… maybe a year. Then – I just didn’t.”

“Did you ask for help?”

“I just figured it was a low point and it was temporary. I thought that the way it worked was that as more time passed, things got better. Right? ‘Time heals all wounds’ and so on. But for me, it felt like more time meant more pain.”

“Depression?”

“Maybe. I see now that I should have gone back to a therapist or talked to my doctor. But really, it just happened so slowly and gradually, just one small thing and then another and I was mostly OK ninety percent of the time. Then eighty. Then half the time and then less than that. And then one day I was in this… this deep, dark pit and I was standing at the bottom of it screaming with no idea how I got there.”

He stroked her back. “One shovelful of dirt at a time.”

She looked at him. “Yes. Exactly. Just one thing, then another. Each thing was so small and insignificant on its own, so I never noticed or took it seriously or thought it was worth addressing. But over time, the way they all added up…”

“Was disastrous,” he finished, finally starting to understand.

“I think so. Yes.” She sighed. “But by the time I figured out that I wasn’t actually doing well at all, the blog was huge and I was well in to my second book, and I didn’t want to let people down. I felt responsible for my followers and so many of them were so incredibly vulnerable. I just couldn’t turn around and crumble. They needed me to be strong and whole. It just felt like – there was a lot of pressure.”

He nodded, remembering how happy he’d been when her blog posts had become more positive. The truth was, when he thought she was doing better, his own guilt about benefitting from her husband’s death had lessened.

Be honest. You
needed
her to appear to do better, no matter how true it was. You
know
that your conscience was clearer when she started to write happier posts.

“And that was that, really.” She ran her finger over his bicep, marvelling at its strength. “I felt stuck and like a total fraud. Which made me feel worse – more depressed and hopeless. So I fought harder to be happy and strong. I wrote more empowered things, but no matter how badly I wanted them to be true, I knew they weren’t. So I was lying… and on it all went in to another cycle of depression.”

“And you had nobody to tell?”

“I didn’t think so at the time. I see now I should have talked to my Mom. She’d have pulled me through. But I was terrified of disappointing her, so in the end, I misled her too.”

“It sounds horrible, baby. So lonely. I’m so sorry.”

“But I think – I think I’m going to be OK now. For real. I can’t go on the way I have been, I see that now.”

“What are you going to do?”

She smiled up at him and her blue eyes were shining and clear. She looked so deeply and truly OK, and his heart jumped a bit at the hope of it.

“Right now? I’m going to lie in this bed with a gorgeous man with a sexy drawl and enjoy being close to him. And just… breathe.”

He wrapped his arms around her and kissed the top of her head. “Sounds good, angel. Sounds very good.”

**

Three days later, Eric woke up first. He lay quietly, watching Annabeth sleep, listening to her deep, even breaths. He liked the way her eyelashes fluttered when she was dreaming.

They had spent every night together since she had told him about wanting to end her own life. No sex, just comfort and support. And – from his side – love. Love and guilt.

Every day, he told himself he should get on a plane and go home; every day he promised Ian he'd do exactly that the next day. Every day he stayed with Annabeth.

Every day, they walked in the mountains and Eric showed her the wildflowers. Annabeth’s knowledge extended as far as ‘a white flower’ and ‘another white flower’, and he delighted in sharing a bit of his deep love for botany.

Just the day before, she had stopped dead and pointed at a yellow flower. “What’s that one, Eric?”

He came over. “Oh, nice. Those are called Golden Smoke.”

She stared down at them. “They’re so delicate and graceful, but I get the sense they can take care of themselves.”

“They really can. They’re normally cold weather flowers. We don’t get them in Texas.”

She looked at him. “Yeah? It’s only autumn, and not that cold yet.”

“It’s weird to see them so early, but not unheard of.”

“Well. I like them.”

“Me too.”

The grinned at each other, and Eric wanted to kiss her then, very badly. Just kiss all her vulnerabilities and toughness, hold on to her and then set her loose to watch her thrive.

Annabeth was meeting with Francine every day and was talking to her friends at Open Skies openly and everyone had been nothing but careful and caring. She was doing better, he knew. Not that any of those things made his leaving any easier but at least if she fell apart again, she’d have people here to help her.

As Eric watched her sleep, he knew that time had run out: his reservation was ending and someone else had the cabin booked after him. So no matter what, he had to go back to Houston the next day. This was it.

Today. You just have to get through today. Then you go and never see her again and she never has to know.

**

When Eric came back in the afternoon for a glass of wine with her, Annabeth was ready.

She gave him the wine and then she fussed and fidgeted in the kitchen, trying to calm herself down and build up her courage to talk to him.

Eric watched her from the sofa, noticing that she looked tense.

“You OK?” he said.

“Yeah. Yeah. I… ummm. I just need to talk to you about something and I’m nervous about it.”

He set down his glass. “OK.”

She sat next to him, her fingers twisting. He reached out and took her hand.

“You can tell me anything, angel. You know that, right?”

“Yes.”

He waited.

“OK, well. I talked to Catherine this morning.”

Her agent. “And what did she say?”

“The publisher is still furious.”

“No surprise there, right? I mean, they commissioned a third book about how well you’re doing, and now you and Catherine want to give them a whole different book. I imagine they don’t care if what you’re proposing is the truth.”

“Yeah, well. They’re pissed but they’ve also come around.”

He stared at her. “They have?”

“Yes. They’ve talked about it, I guess, and they now seem to think that the book I actually want to write is even more marketable than the book I sent off last week.”

“Goddamned vultures.”

“I know. It’s all about having a spin they can sell, I get that.” She smiled. “But they want me to tell the truth, Eric. I get to write about how the past three years have
really
been. I feel like… I don’t know. Like I can finally be totally honest and let go of some of the guilt of lying.”

He cupped her glowing face in his palm. “You sure you want to do this, angel? The fallout is going to be huge and probably brutal. People will be angry – they’ll feel like you duped them. The whole reason the publisher is so hot to do this is
because
controversy sells. The more the better, and it’ll be
you
in the crosshairs, not them.”

“Yeah. That’s the second thing I want to talk to you about.”

“OK.”

She took a deep breath. You’re leaving tomorrow, right?”

“Right.”

“I want to come with you.”

Stunned, he stared at her. “You – what?”

“I can work anywhere, Eric. All I need is my laptop and wifi. And I feel like… like we have something. I’d like to rent a place outside Houston and write. See you when you have the time and see where this all goes.” She swallowed. “I’d like you to be there while I write this book. I feel like I’ll have the strength to write with total honesty and then cope with whatever comes if I have you.”

OK, there. I said it. It’s out there now, no taking it back.

Eric was shocked and horrified. The one woman on earth that he couldn’t have was the only woman on earth that he wanted. And it turned out, she wanted him too. Not for a one-night-stand or as a friend who showed her flowers and slept next to her with pajamas on. As a man. A lover.

For a few seconds, Eric wrestled with the idea of not telling her anything. Just bringing her back to Houston with him and spending every night in her bed. Kissing her and holding her close, hearing her laugh and being there as she started to move on from Cam properly. It was so tempting and so possible and he wanted it so badly. But he couldn't do that to her. She couldn't not know.

Goddammit. It's finally here. In your heart, you always knew this would happen eventually, didn't you?

“Annabeth.” He cleared his throat. “I have something important to tell you now, baby. And after I do, you tell me if you still want to be with me, OK?”

You won’t want to be with me. I know it.

“OK.”

He leaned back. “That first time we met in the restaurant? I already knew who you were.”

“You did?”

“Yeah. I’ve read your blog for almost three years, Annabeth. I have your books at home. I – I knew all about you and Cam a long time ago.”

She blinked.

“Me being here at Open Skies right now is no coincidence. I knew you’d be here, getting your third book ready for publishing.”

She found her voice. “How the hell could you know that? I never said anything about my actual location… never even hinted that it was near the mountains.”

He shifted. “I knew from your blog that you always went to the same place, and when I googled your name, I found a testimonial you’d written for the Open Skies website. So I knew you’d been here.”

“I’ve written testimonials for many hotels I like. How did you know that I’d be
here
now?”

“I had a friend in the Houston police department run your credit cards from the last few times you were off doing your revisions. You’d said you always stay at the same place, so I had him look for any transactions around the times you were editing. It was easy enough to see that charges here appeared every single time.”

She stared at him, anger rising in her now. “You – you had a friend do
what?
Is that even legal?”

“No.”

“You goddamned… why did you do this?” She shot to her feet. “You’re a crazy stalker aren’t you? You – you followed me here! Why?”

She backed away from him towards the door. He got to his feet, his hands outstretched.

“Annabeth, please. I promise you, I’m not some deranged fan or follower or whatever. I had a very good reason for wanting to meet you. Can you just listen?”

“Maybe. You stay over there.”

He sat down again. “OK.”

“So, tell me.”

“God, Annabeth. I never wanted you to know this. I swear.”

“Tell me.”

“OK. I – I had a heart transplant. I had it three years ago.”

She stared at him. “Yeah. And?”

“And – and I know who the donor was.”

Annabeth shook her head. “That’s impossible. The whole process is anonymous... recipients have no way of knowing where organs come from.”

“I had a chatty young intern prep me for the surgery. Totally unprofessional, but he did tell me a lot. I knew that the donor was a firefighter who had died in a car accident and I heard the nurses talking about the heart being flown in from Denver. It was more than enough to start putting the pieces together.”

The light was dawning on her now, but she resisted it, fought it off. “What are you telling me?”

He looked at her steadily. “You know what I’m saying, Annabeth. My heart? It was – it was Cam’s heart. I have Cam’s heart.”

Her knees went out under her then and she crumpled to the floor. She couldn’t seem to catch her breath.

“Annabeth!” He hurried over to her and knelt beside her. “Hey. Hey, just breathe, OK?”

“Oh, my God… Cam’s heart.” With trembling fingers she reached out and touched his chest. Even through the material of his t-shirt she felt his heartbeat, strong and steady. She remembered all the times she’d laid on Cam’s chest and now Eric’s chest, listening to this heart, feeling it against her cheek.

He said it was a good heart. He has no idea how good it really was.

Eric watched her face as she touched him. He’d do anything right now to stop her pain. He reached for her.

“Don’t touch me!” She pushed his hands away. “Just – just stay away from me!”